Me + Pancakes ≠ Awesome

My buddy Mike came over for breakfast this morning, and I decided to try my hand at pancakes. I remember on special Sunday mornings (special to me, anyway), I'd wake up to the delicious smell of sweet, griddled justice. However, no justice was to be had today. What should have been golden-brown toned childhood memories ended up worse than the Boston Bread Riot of 1713.